


The Lay of Crowley and Aziraphale by Ariaste

by GO_Library_archivist



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-20
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GO_Library_archivist/pseuds/GO_Library_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take Tolkien's Lay of Beren and Luthien and put a Good Omens spin on it, and you get this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from [Quantum_Witch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Witch/profile): this story was originally archived at [The Good Omens Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Good_Omens_Library), which I maintained for eight years until I closed it due to lack of funds and decreased usership. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing the GOL's stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in July 2013. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Good Omens Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/TheGoodOmensLibrary/profile), or through the [GO_Library_archivist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GO_Library_archivist/profile) account.

The Lay of Crowley and Aziraphale by Ariaste

Summary: Take Tolkien's Lay of Beren and Luthien and put a Good Omens spin on it, and you get this.  
Categories: Other Characters:  Aziraphale  
Genres:  Romance  
Chapters:  4 Completed: No  
Word count: 2560 Read: 1355  
Published: 20 Sep 2005 Updated: 24 Sep 2005

* * *

 

The GEST of

CROWLEY the sauntering-vaguely-downwards ANGEL  
and  
AZIRAPHALE the ANGEL and PART TIME RARE BOOK DEALER

By Ariaste, with lots of help from Morgan

being a twisted form  
of  
The Lay of Luthien And Beren  
by J.R.R. Tolkien

 

Canticle One

A God there was in days of old,  
Ere Adam walked upon the mould,  
His power was mightier than the shade,  
His hand created glen and glade,  
His army was shining as the moon,  
Their gleaming swords of fire were hewn,  
Of faith and love his crown was wrought,  
The sunlight on wing-feathers caught,  
And silver thrilled the trumpets long,  
Beneath the stars in joyous song;  
Enchantment did his realm exile,  
Where glory triumphed over wile,  
He smited evil's hidden shroud,  
And lived in pillared halls of cloud.  
There serene souls and marble pale,  
And sunlight streaks like fishes' mail,  
Angel and cherub's shield and sword,  
And gleaming wings were there in hoards--  
All these He had, and loved them late,  
Than a guardian of the Eastern Gate,  
To find a fairer -- no avail,  
An angel had he, Aziraphale.*

Such white wings no more shall fly,  
Beneath the sun in the great sky;  
So fair a man no more shall be,  
From dawn to dusk, from sun to sea.  
His robe was grey as winter sky,  
But blue as summer were his eyes;  
'twas sewn with silver flowers fair,  
But golden sunlight was his hair.  
His wings were light as birds' own wings  
His halo golden as the spring,  
The slender spire, the rocking sea  
The fragrance of a flowering tree,  
The lightning through the stained glass leaves,  
The voice of sorrow, more than these,  
His beauty was, save listlessness,  
His glory and his loveliness,  
And him the Lord more dear did keep,  
Than faith or love of mortal sheep.

He dwelt before the Eastern Gate,  
When Eden's children left of late,  
Then by the flowing streams of Babylon,  
Where harsh and heavy the gold sun shone,  
On the brown backs of workers drear,  
When kings held thrall by war and fear,  
Huge false gods of limestone hewn,  
And priestesses drawing down the moon.  
Then West to Rome's sweet glory days,  
To where go all the roads and ways,  
O'er hills and mountains tall of snow,  
He beheld them crossed by a foe.  
Then South, to Egypt's desert wide,  
To East, where Japan's emperors died,  
Divine and power'd, silk by the mile,  
Then North by West, to a green isle,  
Devout and true to God above,  
The nuns and monks gained his love,  
For sign of faith and knot of ever,  
They drew beside the Lord's endeavors,  
And there he stayed for centuries,  
Beholding England's atrocities.

There Aziraphale set up shop,  
With books and tomes beyond all thought,  
And music drearily, thin and clear,  
Came out the door, for all to hear,  
Books of men, and first editions,  
To collect them was his mission.  
When leaves were long, and grass was green,  
Then Zira with his fingers lean,  
As nighttime melted into dawn,  
A lamp on yellow pages shone,  
Tomes of dust, the pages turning,  
For love of knowlege past relearning.

There Zira lived for centuries,  
Noticed not England's colonies,  
Nor horses proud with fringed coach,  
As they ran 'cross bridge or moat,  
When fleeted by in night or day,  
For with only books would Zira lay.  
There things were made that ran on coal,  
And silver cars, wonders untold,  
And endless years like fairyland  
Rolled over far green England,  
Until a day beneath the sun,  
When sinful marvels were begun.

 

 

*For the flow of the poem to be correct, you must slur the name together a bit, so it's almost: a-ZIRA-fell instead of a-ZIR-

a-fay-el

* * *

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://library.good-omens.net/viewstory.php?sid=38>


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take Tolkien's Lay of Beren and Luthien and put a Good Omens spin on it, and you get this.

Canticle Two

Far Beneath, past hill and stone,  
In caverns black there was a throne  
By fires illumined underground,  
That wails of souls with shrieking sound  
Made blaze and gutter in dark smoke,  
The wavering bitter coils did choke  
The sunless airs of dungeons deep,  
Where evil things did crouch and creep.  
There sat a Prince, no human race,  
Nor mortal blood, nor kindly grace  
Of earth or heaven might he own.  
Far older, stronger than the stones  
The world is made of, than the fire  
That burns within more fierce and dire,  
And thoughts profound were in his heart,  
A gloomy power that dwelt apart.

Unconquerable spears of steel  
Were at his nod. No ruth did feel  
The legions of his marshalled hate,  
On whom did wolf and raven wait,  
And black the raves sat and cried  
Upon the banners black; and wide  
Was heard their hideous chanting slam  
Above the reek and trampled damn'd.  
With fire and sword to ruinous maw*,  
On all that would not 'bide God's law,  
Like lightning fell. The Earthen lands  
Lay groaning 'neath Their sparring hands.**

Yet one of them, by fortune's test,  
Seemed less demonic than the rest.  
Pitch black his wings, as raven night,  
And yellow his eyes with hidden sight,  
Eyes of serpent, tongue of snake,  
And of that mind, a brighter make,  
Than that of fellow demonic being,  
Yet all from Holy Water fleeing.  
THe last to Fall for the Unholy,  
And his name was Anthony Crowley***.

As fearless Crowley was renowned  
As demon bold upon the ground  
But dark despair that robbed his life  
Of sweetness, that he longed for knife,  
Some Holy Knife to end his pain  
And send him to oblivion.  
To tempt and charm was unlife's call  
And thus ensnared in fate's own thrall,  
And deeds of east evil fared  
Whose whispered glory wide was shared.

From Heaven he sauntered vaguely down,  
Hell sent him up to tempt the Crown  
of England, thus his fate was stirred,  
A fate to saveth all the world. ***

His face turned Up from Land of Dread,  
Whence only crooked pathways led,  
And only feet of men most cold  
Might cross the threshway of that hold,  
O'er northern slope of snow he flew  
With tempting to cause mortals woe.  
The southern faces mounted sheer  
In rocky pinnacle and pier,  
For from brimstone and deceit,  
Where water's wash turned bittersweet.  
There folklore lurked in gulf and glen,  
Coming closer, soon he kenned,  
Ah, England! Ah, England!  
The seaside of a greener land,  
Here still was laughter and golden sun,  
And many marvels soon begun.

 

*I use the word maw here in reference to some ancient woodcuts that depict souls entering the mouth of a dragon -- symbolizing the entrance to Hell.

**These first two verses are almost purely Tolkien's. In these, he describes Morgoth and Morgoth's lair. Morgoth, indeed, is Middle Earth's Satan, for during the creation of Arda, when the Valar were singing, he rebelled and sang in discord. So I kept these lines nearly the same, with only a few words changed, because they fit so well to my purpose.

***The two verses I have marked with three, however, are both all my own.

 

* * *

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://library.good-omens.net/viewstory.php?sid=38>


	3. The Lay of Crowley and Aziraphale by Ariaste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take Tolkien's Lay of Beren and Luthien and put a Good Omens spin on it, and you get this.

Canticle Three

In winter and in summer's glow,  
In sunshine or falling of the snow,  
The angel of the Eastern Way  
Among the ancient tomes would stay.  
All Heaven-fair and all divine  
He read until the stars did shine.

Now it befell on summer night  
Inside a shop where lingering light  
Yet stayed and glowed all golden grey  
That Zira read while records played.  
The chestnuts by the door had shed  
Their flowering candles, white and red.  
His hair like summer sun was gleaming  
Then seemed to be a cloud-like streaming;  
His eyes atwinkle, pages roaming,  
Like misty morning in the gloaming.  
Then clearly thrilled his wings, and rang  
With quiet homesickness he sang  
A song of Heaven that he learned  
Up there, Above, when world first turned.

And this it was that Crowley heard,  
And this he saw, without a word,  
As he walked deserted street,  
And cursed the sound of mortal feet.  
Enchanted dumb, yet filled with fire,  
Of such a hatred and desire  
That all his demon mind was dim  
Old memories bound and fettered him.  
And faint he leaned on chestnut tree  
Forwandered wayworn, gaunt was he,  
And now his heart was healed and slain  
With new life and with new pain.

He gazed, and as he gazed, gold hair  
Within it's cloudy web did snare  
The gleaming light from lantern low  
It blinded through the dusty window.  
Then all his journey's lonely fare,  
The anger, and the haggard care,  
Now all the horrors like a cloud  
Faded from his mind, he vowed.  
Lo! All forgetting, he was drawn  
To the place his heart had gone.

He leapt upwhat seemed a stony hill,  
His arms with loveliness to fill,  
And as he opened the shop door,  
He softly called, in voice heard no more,  
Aziraphale! Aziraphale!  
And clear his voice was as a bell,  
It's whispers wove a binding spell.  
Aziraphale! Aziraphale!  
The angel looked up in surprise,  
And saw the demon's shining eyes,  
One moment stood they, fear was stilled,  
His voice such love and longing filled  
One moment only, like a flame,  
Demon leapt, to hell's own shame,  
And caught and kissed the angel lips.

 

* * *

 

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://library.good-omens.net/viewstory.php?sid=38>


	4. The Lay of Crowley and Aziraphale by Ariaste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take Tolkien's Lay of Beren and Luthien and put a Good Omens spin on it, and you get this.

Canticle Four

Crowley lay among his plants,  
His face upon a phicus branch,  
Aswoon in overwhelming bliss,  
Enchanted of an angel's kiss,  
Seeing within his darkened eyes  
The light that for no darkness dies,  
The loveliness that doth not fade  
Though all in ashes cold be laid.  
Then folded in the mists of sleep  
He fell into a slumber deep,  
Drowned in overwhelming grief  
For parting after meeting brief;  
A shadow and a scent divine  
Lingered, left, for one he pined,  
Forsaken, lonely, bare as stone,  
The daylight found him cold, alone.

"Why did I go? The day is bare,  
The sunlight dim, and cold the air!  
Aziraphale, where went my feet?  
Oh wayward star! Oh angel sweet!  
The flower of Heaven all too fair  
for demon heart! The day is bare!  
The day is bare!" he rose and cried,  
"Ere spring was born, the spring hath died!"  
And wandering round the flat and mind,  
He fell, as one gone sudden blind,  
Who seeks to grasp the hidden light  
With faltering hands in more than night.

And thus in anguish Crowley paid  
For that great doom upon him laid,  
The deathless love of Aziraphale,  
Too fair to tell in simple tales,  
And in his doom was Zira snared;  
'Twixt divine and damn'd was true love shared,  
And Fate them forged a binding chain  
Of living love and mortal pain.

Beyond all hope, the angel returned,  
At eve, when in the sky there burned  
The flame of stars, and in his eyes,  
There trembled the starlight of the skies;  
From angel's hair the fragrence fell  
Of heavenly flowers in elfin-dell.

Thus Aziraphale, whom no pursuit,  
No knife, no dart that demons shoot,  
Might hope to kill or hold, he came,  
At the sweet calling of his name;  
Thus a demon's and an angel's hands  
Were linked in far green England,  
In hour enchanted, years ago,  
Zira's arms about his neck did go,  
And gently down he drew to rest  
The demon's head upon his chest.  
Aziraphale, oh angel fair,  
Why wentest thou to demon's lair,  
With shining eyes and timid pace,  
The twilight glimmering on your face?  
Each day before the end of eve,  
He sought his lover, nor would him leave  
Until the stars were dimmed and day  
Shone bright and clear on children's play.  
At eve's trembling would he appear  
Half-afraid of his demon dear;  
And flitting just before his feet,  
He gently chid with laughter sweet,  
"Come fly now, Crowley, fly with me,  
For fain thy dark wings would I see,  
Come! Thou must woo with nimbler flight  
Over the misty mountains' might,  
In velvet skies above this realm  
Of marvellous moonlit beach and elm.

In England Crowley soon ago,  
New art and lore he learned to know;  
His wings were freed, his eyes alight  
Kindled with new enchanted sight  
And to angel's white wings, his wings  
Attuned went beating free of things.  
Their laughter welled as from a spring  
Of music, and their voices sing,  
As voices of those in Heaven's hand  
Where grass and flowers o'er all the land.  
The year thus on to autumn rolled,  
From summer to a fall of gold.

Thus fleeting fast their hour flies,  
Watching each other with fiery eyes,  
Haunting the gloom of tangled trees  
All day, until the night-things see  
In the fickle moon their moving feet,  
Two lovers linked in dancing sweet,  
Two shadows shimmering on the green,  
And loving in places no mortal has seen.

Yet Michael heard, to earth of green  
He went, and looked on, quite unseen,  
Anger sparked, he hastening went  
To his Lord, to tell of where glance had bent.  
He went beside the mounded seat,  
And sat beside Lord God's great feet,  
Then God, He said, "Oh Michael fair,  
Thou master of my legions rare,  
Oh divine heart and wisdom wild,  
Whose ear nor eye may be beguiled,  
What omen does this dread sight bear?  
What news doth come upon the air?

And Michael answered: "I knoweth not!  
With riddles are these tidings fraught,  
Yet earth is there, alack, alas!  
Till many things be come to pass,  
The sign is there. The woods not still,  
and waiting; for a marvel chill  
Them holds at the strange deeds they see,  
But Lord sees not, though, I, maybe,  
May guess, and angels, maybe know.  
Where one was lonely, two now go!"

"Whither thy riddle points is plain,"  
The Lord in anger said, "But deign  
To make it plainer! Who is he  
That earns my wrath? How walks he free  
Within the woods with one of my folk,  
A stranger to both beech and oak?"  
But then Michael looked and saw Aziraphale,  
And wished he had not spoken, as the Lord hailed,  
And no more would he speak that day,  
Though his Lord's face with wrath was grey.  
Then Aziraphale stepped forth:  
"Far Beneath the mountain-leagured Earth,  
My Lord," said he, "Lies the land  
That groans beneath one Lucifer's hand.  
Thence came one thither, bent and worn  
In wars and travail, who had sworn  
No loyalty or oath to you, my king,  
Yet it be no evil or fearsome thing,  
of one Anthony J. Crowley!  
If aught thou hast to say to him,  
Then swear to hurt not flesh nor limb  
And I will lead him to thy hall,  
As son of kings, not Satan's thrall.

Then long Lord God looked upon him so sure,  
Not hand nor food nor tongue did stir,  
And Michael, silent, unamazed,  
On Aziraphale and Lord God gazed.  
"No blade nor chain his limbs shall mar"  
The Lord then swore. "He wanders far,  
And news, mayhap, he has for me,  
And words for him I have, maybe!"

So fearing Aziraphale that night  
Led Crowley by the golden light  
Of mounting moon unto the shore  
And bridge before his Lord King's door,  
And the white light silent looked within,  
The waiting portals yawning dim.

 

* * *

 

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://library.good-omens.net/viewstory.php?sid=38>


End file.
